Captive
by MeltingLemons
Summary: Draco is standing face to face with the young witch, ordered to kill. After all they have been through he can't bring himself to do it. In turn he is ordered to keep her captive, to ensure she is feeling as badly as Bellatrix felt for her dear Dark Lord's down fall. With no family or friends alive, Hermione could only wish for death. Will Stockholm Syndrome be inevitable? Dramione.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****_All characters and locations belongs to JK Rowling, the masterful genius._**

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**Kill Her**

He felt ice cold, from his chest to his fingertips, alike an icicle. He couldn't have heard right. His eyes were widened in disbelief.

"Common now! _Kill her_!" Bellatrix shrill voice mused.

He wanted to ask why. But he already had a hunch. Why it had to be him though, he didn't know.

"_Son_…" Lucius Malfoy grumbled threateningly.

Draco swallowed hard, but didn't move. He couldn't, even if he had wanted to. His feet felt as if etched to the ground, rooting through the floor.

"It's just a _mudblood_, Draco." Bellatrix big, crazy eyes were poking out their sockets and her grin was cracked wide. She quickly slid up next to Draco and hissed seductively. "Kill her."

Several moments passed as the bystandards watched his every move. He closed his eyes and his brows came closer together. He finally took one small step forward. His fancy shoes clicked on the marvel flooring and echoed loudly in the giant room. It sounded almost like his lonely heartbeats, drumming in his ears.

After what felt like ages, but were mere minutes, he finally stood infront of the young woman whom was standing on her bare knees. She was barely conscious, her eyes averting towards the cracked, gray floor.

Was this the end she had had in mind, he asked himself. Probably not. She had probably hoped for it to go calmly, with the sea-breeze caressing her soft and wrinkly face, as she presumably would be old. It would probably happen out on her porch to her little cottage she would have shared with her future husband. Pictures of her grandkids would probably be decorating the windows, alongside some of her children and friends. The last thing she would see would probably be her old husband sitting next to her, holding her hand. She would have a small smile on her face before she would breath her last breath. As her heart would come to a halt, images of all things she loved would cloud her mind, and the euphoria of those beautiful memories would lead her to whatever was to follow.

Instead she was here. No one was holding her hand, them being tied to her back with a rope charm. Her friends were since long dead, and she had had no time to form any kind of relationship with anyone. There was no smile on her bruised face, just blood. A black eye also decorated her usual beautiful face, along a swollen lip and cuts and bruises, deforming her features. She weren't supposed to go like this. It was wrong. She was supposed to go calmly, in peace, as she deserved after all she had been through at such a young age. Not like this. And not _here_.

But what could he do. It was him or her. He might not want to see her dead, but rather _her_ than himself. _Anyone_ but himself! The only one he would die instead of was his mother. Other than that he would reach to any end for self preservation.

He took a deep breath and hesitantly rose his wand. When he pointed it at her chest he wanted to look away. Instead he watched as she lifted her own to look her killer in the eyes.

Her mouth trembled and her brows furrowed slightly. She couldn't see much after the beating she had taken, but when she squinted she could make out the sharp face looking back at her with a scared expression.

"Malfoy?" She whispered.

It felt as if all air got punched out of Draco when she spoke his name. She recognized him. After everything his own face was the face she would associate with all of this. With her death.

He took a small step back and shook his head. He tried to speak but no words came out.

A cold, gentle hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned around and came eye to eye with his mother.

"Draco?" She asked worriedly.

"I can't" He whispered.

"You _have_ to" she said shakily.

"There's got to be another way!"

At this she placed her other hand on his other shoulder. "She's just a mudblood, Draco."

He was still shaking his head. "I'm not doing it." He said firmly and swallowed the sick feeling lumping in his throat.

"I'll do it!" A shrill, excited voice cheered. "I've wanted to since the day I carved in _her name_ on her arm." She was standing infront of Hermione now. With a disgusted face Bellatrix grabbed Hermione's hair and pulled her head back. "I was going to do it then already. But that bloody _lowlife_ _elf_ thought it wise to use his so called 'magic' to set you all free."

"Dobby." Hermione whispered.

"What was that now?" she shrieked.

"H-his name was Dobby." Hermione spoke up.

Bellatrix leaned in close to her face. Her breath sending chills down Hermione's spine. "Like I care what his name was?" She threw Hermione back onto the floor with the hand of hair she had been holding. "It doesn't _matter_, you see. Just like _you_, you all's names are worthless, because you are all just _waste_! Undeveloped and disgusting imbeciles!" She twirled around her own shoulder and looked happily around the room. "And that's why you have to die. Despicable trash like yourself seem to view themselves as _significant_. _Worthy_ magic." Bellatrix fervently moved to close the giant circle she had been walking around Hermione. "This will show all inferior species what happens if they don't stick to their _rightful place_!" At this she pointed her dark wand towards Hermione in an outstretched arm.

"_Stop_."

A moment of silence fell over the room. To Hermione it felt as if time stood still. No one really knew what had just happened.

Bellatrix twitched. "What now?" She whispered vigorously in a much too shrill tone.

Draco tried to speak but no sound came out. He had been watching the scene play out and in the end he hadn't been able to let it happen. _No one_ would have been able to, he defended himself.

Bellatrix seemed taken aback about this whole situation. And to be honest, so was Draco himself. Nevertheless, she slowly moved towards him with her crazed head tilted to the side. Draco wanted to move backwards, a step away from her with every step she took in his direction. In fact he wanted to run away from there as fast as he could, and never look back. But that wasn't possible. Especially not now.

"Now now, what do we have here?" she sighed and pouted with her lips. "Has little Draco dear fallen in love with the filthy mudblood?"

Draco didn't know how to react to this turn of events. How she had come to that conclusion was beyond him, as well as everyone else in the room.

Without moving his head more than an inch he tried to look at his mother standing next him. Her eyes looked equally as confused as his own, questioning Bellatrix delirious rambling. When he looked back to the scene before him Bellatrix was much closer to him than he had expected and he jumped back slightly. At this she seemed rather amused.

"I-I don't think she should _die_." Now he had to improvise as to why, and he had no clue. He had watched so many before her be tortured and eventually killed. None of it was in any way entertaining, as the rest seemed to find it. However, he had never stopped it from happening. With bemused attention he had done his evil deed through association and attendance. In this case, though, he couldn't just stand by and let her die. And he could not, for the life of him, figure out why he was willing to risk himself for her.

"She belonged to the Dark Lord" Narcissa Malfoy shot in and stepped up next to her son.

Bellatrix's nostrils flared as she was breathing in harshly.

"Indeed she did" Bellatrix said with a deliberative expression. "However, my dear Dark Lord is dead, so how does that affect her outcome? She serves no purpose anymore; the Potter kid is dead and brought Him down with his death." She was panting and sitting out her words in Narcissa's face, hovering infront of her. "That disgusting child killed Him!"

"That does not give you the right to kill her." Narcissa said coldly.

Bellatrix looked ready to crack. "I was the Dark Lord's most dedicated disciple, and I still _am_! I have _every_ right to kill her!" At this she moved backwards and pointed at Hermione. "She stands for his downfall, she deserves to die!"

"I think killing her would grant her the grand escape she's been wanting since she got here."

The delirious look on Bellatrix's face was prominent and almost comical.

"Letting her live, in this torturous state, would surely make a much better punishment, equal to your loss." Narcissa gestured around the room to all the Death Eaters and snatchers that were gathered. "All our loss."

Bellatrix's head twitched threateningly before coming to her critical point. "_Fine_." She spat. "I'll let her live. _Here_. With _you_!" She pointed at Draco.

"And _you_" she moved her focus back to Narcissa, "you better make sure she suffers; I will check up on you, to make sure she gets what she deserves." She went on to staring bewilderedly at Narcissa.

Narcissa had recollected herself in the mere seconds it took for the information to sink in. Draco on the other hand, had not. His mouth was agape and his perturbed expression said more than a thousand words.

"What are you all waiting for! _Lets move_!" In a few seconds most Death Eaters had disappeared into thin air, in clusters of smoke. The snatchers got apparated with a few of the others, and soon the room was empty as to the Malfoy family. And a broken Hermione.

_Slap_!

A stinging pain shot through Draco as his mother's hand had crossed his cheek. He grabbed it as the sharp pain was soaring.

Narcissa was the first to speak up, after clearing her throat. Without looking at anyone she said "Take her to one of the rooms on the first floor, she needs to rest if she's going to survive. She looks _foul_. And please do heal her up a bit, so it will be possible to look at her at least.".

Draco nodded scantily.

Narcissa came up to her husband who said harshly "I should just kill her now.".

"Now dear, don't be grim, it's not fitting."

"This will all come crashing down on us unless he lives up to this."

"Let's go dear." she said and hooked her tiny arm into his.

When they were all alone Draco stood above Hermione not knowing what to do next. How was he supposed to live this up, and more importantly, live this through? He didn't want to hurt her. Obviously, that's why he stopped her murder. However, he didn't want to die.

He sighed and decided to call for one of the house elves to help out. "Polly!"

With a loud poof she appeared infront of him. "Yes master?"

He gestured to Hermione lying on the floor, where Bellatrix had tossed her. He didn't trust his levitation charm at the moment. He didn't trust anything he did right now. "Will you locomotor Granger to the second room on the first floor." He merely whispered rather than spoke, as he didn't trust his voice to hold.

"Of course young Mr. Malfoy." She squeaked and followed Draco as he made to slowly move towards the giant doors. She snapped her fingers and Hermione flew up into midair where she hovered. Draco nodded firmly at Polly and lead the long way to Hermione's confinement.

It was one of the smallest rooms in the Malfoy Manor, including their pantries. It was, however, decorated as a guest room, including a bed, cupboards, and a majestic closet. The dark room was only lit up by Draco's wand. The diffused Lumos led Polly to the bed.

"You can put her here." He said, and she did as instructed.

Once she was laid down on top of the bed they both watched her, not quite knowing what to do next.

After some time Polly piped up. "Is she to stay long, Master?"

"I don't know" He didn't take his eyes off of Hermione Granger laying on the bed infront of him.

"Leave."

Polly nodded and disappeared with a loud pop, leaving Draco and Hermione alone in the dark room.

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**_I hope you all enjoyed this very first chapter. Please let me know what you think of it! _**

**_Love_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own popcorn and cookies, but I do not own Harry Potter. I merely borrowing JK's creations. **

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**Prisoner**

Draco clenched his hair with his tawny fingers. His feet were touching the wooden flooring, yet he felt awfully unstable. If he had not been sitting down already he frightened he would have fainted.

"Just kill me now" he whimpered.

There was a grunt behind him and he shot up from the bed. The speed he rose to his feet were the equivalent to a hummingbird flapping its wing.

The woman laying in the bed had yet to open her eyes. She was awake. She was aware of the fact she was alive, but judging by the sound of it, she most likely wished she wasn't. The painful, low noises escaping her mouth, cut straight through him.

"_Stop_" he cringed.

Hermione shot her eyes open and, all too quickly, tried to move. The pain in her chest, from her possibly broken ribs, made it hard to breath, let alone _move_. A loud and pained sigh passed through her crackled lips. Once she was back down on the bed again she shot Malfoy a glance before trying to locate her whereabouts.

"W-where am I?" she croaked.

Draco's face twitched before looking over towards the door. "In the mansion."

"Why am I not dead?"

"You don't remember?" He felt a frustrating panic, in the form of anger, shooting though him. His eyes stayed on the marvel that was a mess of tangled hair.

"I do." she whispered. "I don't understand why." she wheezed lowly.

There was a long moment of silence. Draco didn't know how to answer. He simply didn't know the answer. He was the glitch in the Malfoy family; he had done what no other would have done. Draco was the incompetent, frail weakling. He had spent his life trying to do what people enforced on him, but never managed to execute what was expected. He had never been enough in anyone's eyes.

And he had done it again. All he would have had to do was let Bellatrix kill her. Murder her. But instead he had to let his feelings, instincts and plain stupidity get in the way. He was a Malfoy, Malfoy's put themselves first. Why couldn't he just have let her die?

"Once you're healed enough to escape, your'e out of here. Understood?" Draco's harsh tone made Hermione squint. Once he had shut the door harshly behind him, with a loud bang, she jumped.

Once safely on the other side of the door Draco rested his heavy head against the cool wood. "Why did I save you?" he mumbled.

On the other side of the door however, a fidgety Hermione laid in complete abeyance. She dreaded that he would come back inside. Surprisingly enough she feared him. He was feeble and unruly. His impetuous actions came from his inner core. He was ruled by the darkest of demons, resting within him. He could not be trusted.

But she needed him. Draco Malfoy was the key to her mending. To her survival.

Hermione laid in complete silence for a time which felt like hours, contemplating the sanity of Malfoy. And her self.

There was no windows in this room, which made it hard to tell both time a location. If she was to break out it would have to be though the use of Malfoy.

A harsh knock on the door startled her, disturbing her thoughts. Infesting them with fright. The doorknob slowly turned and a small click echoed through the idle room. Hermione did not dare look over to see who entered, forcing her eyes shut. All she heard was the slow, creaking footsteps, from hard shoes on wooden flooring.

The sound slowly came up next to the bed, creeping up beside her. While keeping her eyes firmly closed, Hermione's heart belted fast and hard against her chest. She could feel the presence of a body hovering next to her. Hushed breathing came closer to her face. The person's breath flittered over her face, and the radiating warmth from a body bundled on her cheeks.

It came to the point when she could not take it any longer; she shot open her eyes, took a deep breath she hadn't known she had been holding, and prepared to scream. This is when a cold soft hand shoved her lips closed. She shifted under the force of the hand, roaming the darkness feverishly with her eyes. All until they locked on another set of eyes watching her widely. Those pale gray eyes sparked a memory, a memory of a young, lost boy she had once met.

"Do. Not. Scream." Draco Malfoy warned. "Okay?"

She complied with a nod.

"I thought you were dead." he mumbled angrily. "Can you sit?" he asked, and she tried. "Here let me help." Draco leaned down over her and grabbed hold of her naked, bony shoulders. Together they forced her to a sitting position, with slight trouble.

Hermione wanted to cough, but a shooting pain threatened whenever she took a deep enough breath.

"I brought food." Draco said, making her aware of him again.

"Water" she whispered.

"Do you want water?" he asked, not sure of what she had said; she had barely moved her lips, the sound had been close to inaudible.

Hermione nodded slowly, and took the cup when he held it out before her. The light from the open door was enough to let her know she was on the ground floor. She could swear she smelled roses. And bushes of lavender.

A small tear dripped down her crummy cheek.

Draco's hand was in front of her eyes when he abruptly stopped in the middle of his movement. He swiftly brought himself to his feet.

"Lumos." A little chandelier lit up at the sound of his charm. "I have to go. Eat." he ordered before he left her alone without a second glance.

Once alone in the dim, silent room, she had no one to distract her from her longing to go back home. Hug her parents and kiss them on their cheeks. Talk too long into the nights, cuddling on the couch. Watch movies, and documentaries, that lead to heated discussions. Sunday-morning waffles, and blueberry jam. Dig holes for her mother's newest plants. Drying herbs in the kitchen window, by tying them to purple ribbon-strings.

Instead she lay on a soft, and much to big bed, injured through-out. Awaiting her death, that seemed much too close for her liking. Her parents memories no longer including her, nor did the garden bloom and smell like Eden anymore.

Hermione let her tears flow down her cheeks, washing off the dirt that almost seemed a part of her by now. Even holding her eyes closed tears carefully seeped through the nonexistent cracks. The pain of losing all she loved hurt more than her mutilated body. She wished she could turn back time, change everything. Make it right in the world.

The room was small and stuffy and smelled like mashed potatoes. Opening her eyes she noticed the plates of foods lined up on the table next to the bed. It was enough for a hoard of horses, judging by the amount.

Already sitting up she tried to lean closer to the table. Placing her legs over the corner of the bed placed her in the optimum position in front of the food. The many meals cooked by house elves, for sure, were awfully tempting. Her stomach groaned at her hesitation.

Once she had started there was no stop in her. It was as if her stomach was alike an empty purse with an invisible expansion charm put on it. Where all the food disappeared to she did not know, but she had to store. When her next meal would come she was unsure of. Living off of berries and an occasional fish whilst in the forest, Hermione was reluctant to eat more than her stomach could handle. Forcing the rest down, for the safety, her survival.

"Fancied the cuisine?" His cool voice shot through the warm air.

She almost choked on her pumpkin juice, and her ribs crushed under the impairment. Looking up towards the door, she found a tall man. He was dressed in all black, standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

Malfoy slanted in to the room, the door closing behind him. "Didn't mean to take your breath away." he said, with no amusement. Almost as if the old him had managed to escape his body, leaving only the faint impression of him left in this pale man standing before her.

Hermione's swollen skin had started to mare at places punches had touched her delicate skin. The faint blue hue, from clogging blood under the surface, didn't fit with her otherwise warm glow.

"What you witnessed" she grumbled, "was fear." She met his eyes with anger, yet he only looked back with relatable amusement.

"I did not think you Gryffindors felt fear." He stated and moved to one of the armchairs at the end of the bed.

"We're only human, of course we feel fear." she whispered frustratedly. "And, just like you Slytherins, we choose not to pay it too much attention."

"I tend to pay a lot of attention to my fears" Draco shot in before he could stop himself, almost wincing as he realized.

"Ah, of course," she gnarred in response, "But we show it differently. Through our actions, especially."

"And what do my actions say about me?"

"That you're a coward" Hermione stopped to try to cough lightly, "a cockroach, and a self-absorbed bastard that does not care for anyone else but himself."

"Is that so." he responded bemusedly.

Hermione took a while before speaking again. "Apart from now." She was relating to the latest action of goodness that had escaped his otherwise so selfish heart. Looking at him now, with a dazed look. "Why did you do that?"

At a loss of words, befuddled by her bluntness, he stared at her with empty eyes. The moment dragged on till he finally drew a breath and opened his mouth. "I don't know." He crooked his eyebrow, daring her to continue the conversion.

Hermione watched him chew his cheeks, making his pale lips purse. His hands were tapping the edges of the armchair he was delicately launched in, rhythmically releasing tension.

Draco rolled his eyes inwardly, he wanted to leave the room and never come back. Forget about it, hide it, seal it for good. Yet he stayed. He had to, didn't he?

"What happens now?" she finally piped up, finally taking her eyes off of him, redirecting them to her food. As she had been holding her fork, she decided to try and pick on the food left on her plate. Had she had a big enough stomach she would have eaten what was left. Living off of nothing for the past few month, it had shrunk to fit barely anything.

Draco watched her pick on the plate and scrunched his nose. "You didn't eat."

Surprised, she looked back at him. "I did" she defended herself. Leaning back slightly, cursing under her breath as her ribs ached.

Draco twinged at the look of her. He couldn't stay, he had to get out of there. Draco quickly rose to his feet, his mind at a standstill.

Hermione didn't dare to look up at his erring figure. None of them knew how to react to the reflexive action.

After an eternity of seconds Draco spoke. "Eat up." and yet again, left her alone in the solitary room.

"I can't" she responded to the closed door.


End file.
